


We Had a Once Upon a Time.

by shannonsaid



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 20:33:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6768931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannonsaid/pseuds/shannonsaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Contains Civil War spoliers. Read at your own risk.</p>
    </blockquote>





	We Had a Once Upon a Time.

**Author's Note:**

> Contains Civil War spoliers. Read at your own risk.

Natasha knew - staring at the glass doors of a room she both wanted and didn’t want to enter - she had been granted silent permission to enter Wakanda. It was the only explanation for why she had been allowed to come so far without meeting any form of resistance.

She exhaled. The Kings motives didn’t matter. All that mattered was what was waiting for her behind those closed doors. Pulling the strap of the backpack further onto her shoulder, she stilled her shaking hand as she pulled open the doors.

The room smelled sterile, like a hospital, and the lights were too bright, washing the color from everything. Everything around her was silent. Even her heartbeat seemed to still itself. She could see movement from the corner of her eyes, but she couldn’t make out any shapes or faces.

Except one.

To her left she saw a containment chamber like the one from her dreams that were more like nightmares. Only this one looked calm and almost inviting, unlike the ones for her nightmares. Those always appeared terrifying and deadly.

She walked toward it slowly, as if the floor beneath her was made of ice, and if she walked too heavily or too quickly, it would crack.

The ice crystals frozen to the window of the chamber blurred his features, leaving him smudged around the edges, but she could make out the curve of his jaw, the stubble the traced its way down his throat, the length of his eyelashes that rested against his cheekbones. He appeared peaceful, lost in a dreamless sleep.

She reached her hand out to touch the chamber, pausing halfway. Although he was asleep, hidden behind a door, touching the chamber felt intimate. Like she was invading a space she hadn’t been invited to invade. Pulling her hand back, she slid the backpack from her shoulder and set it at the foot of the chamber.

There were no chairs in the room, so Natasha sat herself down next to the backpack, crossing her legs at the knees. She folded her hands in her lap, watching as her fingers twitched out of nervousness, before lifting her gaze back to the chamber.

“I found your backpack,” she swallowed past the dryness in her throat. “I found your backpack,” she repeated, louder this time. “I mean, I borrowed it.” She shook her head, “no. I stole it. I thought you should have it. It means more to you than it ever will to them.” She picked at her fingernails, a habit she couldn’t even remember picking up. “I thought about going through it, through your notebooks. I wanted to go through them. I wanted to know what you remembered. Who you remembered. If you remembered me. Remembered,” she swallowed again, “us.”

She slid a notebook from her jacket pocket. It was smaller than the ones in his backpack, but still full of words - memories.

“Because there is a me to remember, and an us.”

She flipped the notebook open, staring down at her own handwriting, and it seemed to stare back at her. The darkness of the ink spelling out her greatest weakness, her greatest fear, and her greatest love.

“I wanted to leave this for you to find.” Her hand ran over her words, feeling their weight in her chest, in the beat of her heart. “But they’re my memories and not yours, which means it’s my story to tell.”

She read through her words. Her voice steady and full of emotion.

She closed the notebook when she finished. Her words seeming to echo around the room, running over her skin, leaving a flurry of goosebumps in their wake.

“I left a phone in your backpack. It’s programmed with a single number, mine. When you wake up, if you remember, if you want to remember…” She let her voice fall silent, as she stood up from the ground.

Sliding the notebook back into her pocket, she again reached out toward the chamber. This time she let her hand rest against it, for only a moment, before turning away and walking out the glass doors.

**Author's Note:**

> The [James](http://thewanderingsoldier.tumblr.com/) to my [Natasha](http://n-r0man0va.tumblr.com/) and I have started a thread about what happens after.
> 
> It can be found [here](http://thewanderingsoldier.tumblr.com/post/144045287365/we-could-have-a-once-upon-a-time), for any of you that may be interested.


End file.
